


The Silent Road

by pippinmctaggart



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Hopeful Ending, Isolation, M/M, Sadness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-03-13
Updated: 2005-03-13
Packaged: 2018-03-31 08:46:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3971500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pippinmctaggart/pseuds/pippinmctaggart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Billy's troubled. Dom tries to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Silent Road

Billy sat in the armchair; not his usual spot, but he’d taken to it lately. His feet were flat on the floor, his hands shoved down into the tight spaces between cushion and arms.

Dom wondered why Billy felt the need to force his hands flat like that; normally his hands were curved, fingers curled. Like Billy himself they faced inwards, shielding, protecting vulnerable areas, but with the ability—the natural proclivity even—to be gentle and kind and sensitive. So why was he rigidly forcing them open?

Dom realized why with his very next breath as he looked a little more closely at the other man. The stiffness in Billy’s shoulders made it clear—if his hands weren’t inflexibly held straight, they’d be clenched into tight fists.

And yet he looked so…vague. Distant, even. His gaze was directed in the general area of the telly, but Dom could easily tell he had no idea what was on.

As Billy sat, unmoving and silent, Dom watched him candidly. He studied Billy, making note of subtle changes he hadn’t seen until now. The pallor, the tinge of grey in the skin under several days’ growth of stubble. The purplish shadows under his eyes that looked almost like bruises.

Dom suddenly rose to cross the room and sit on the arm of the chair. “Bill. Bill, look at me.”

Billy looked up, his line of sight rising as far as Dom’s chin.

“Billy, are you ill?” Dom asked softly, suddenly scared.

He shook his head.

“Talk to me, mate.”

“’M not ill.” His voice was low, rusty as with disuse.

“Then what’s going on? You look like shite.”

He turned his head back toward the TV. “Probably because I feel it.”

Dom’s hand rested on Billy’s shoulder. “What is it? Your stomach? Head?”

Billy pulled away, shifting as far from Dom as he could. “Told you. ‘M not ill.”

Dom slid down into the chair until they were crammed in together, Dom half on his lap. “Come on, love. You’re worrying me, here.”

Billy surged to his feet and left the room.

Dom bit his lip, not quite knowing what to think or do. He stayed where he was in the armchair, trying to piece together the clues he had, if only his brain would spot the connections and draw the links.

They’d been in L.A. for several months now. Billy had been working steadily the last few weeks, but not hard enough for this to be exhaustion. He’d done a week’s filming for a small role he’d landed, auditioned for others, gone to premieres and openings. Nothing new, nothing spectacular. Nothing remarkably dreadful either, though. Oh, sure, there had been some setbacks, some minor frustrations, but Billy—he of the eternally sunny disposition—had always been able to handle those with ease.

Until now, of course.

Sun. Maybe that was it. They were in L.A., sure, but Billy hadn’t been outside much recently, other than to shuttle back and forth between home and job and theatre and restaurant. And they hadn’t left the city once in the last three months. And—now that Dom thought of it, it seemed the only real answer—no fresh air and exercise and good honest sweat.

Very little Dom’n’Billy either, and Dom wasn’t quite sure how that had happened. Determined, he decided that was going to change, and ASAP. Hearing Billy banging about in the kitchen, Dom bypassed that room and headed for their bedroom to get what they would need.

When he’d finished his preparations, he strolled into the kitchen, backpack slung over his shoulder, and opened the fridge to remove a brand new six-pack of water bottles. “Where’re your sunglasses?”

Billy took one look at him, and seemed to pale even further. “Hall table, I think. Help yourself.” He turned and fled yet again.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Dom whispered, then jogged after him, catching him lightly by the arm in the living room. “I didn’t mean for me, you daft twat,” he said easily. “I meant for you. You’re going to need them today.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m bloody well not.” Billy tried to free his arm, but Dom’s long strong fingers held him in place.

“Yes, you sodding well are,” he insisted cheerfully. “You’re coming with me.”

“I can’t,” Billy said, and a hint of desperation had entered his voice.

“Why not?”

“I—just can’t.”

Dom realized he should have done this days before—Billy had traveled too far down that road and he hadn’t even seen it. He cursed himself for his blindness. “Come with me, Bills,” he said softly now, in entreaty. “Come with me. Come on, mate.”

“Where?” he muttered.

“Where the rocks are.”

Billy slowly followed him.

 

 

 

“Bills—hold up a minute,” Dom panted, leaning over with his hands on his knees. They’d driven out of the city, up the coast until they found a stretch that looked deserted. Parking half in a ditch, they’d abandoned the car and climbed over a fence to get to the shore, and the dunes, and the rocks.

Billy turned, sweat pouring off him. “Come on.”

Dom tried to catch his breath. They’d gone up and down dunes, sinking to their ankles in the deep sand, and climbed what Dom would definitely have classified as a cliff, despite the fact that Billy disliked heights even more than he himself did. “I’m knackered, Bill,” he admitted. “I don’t have what’s driving you. See that sunny patch of sand down there?”

Billy looked down to the little stretch of sand beach in between the rock promontories. “Yeah.”

“I’ll be on it, trying not to sit up every three minutes to look for you. Here, take a bottle with.” Dom pulled one of the water bottles out of the knapsack and handed it to Billy. “Be careful. Come back to me soon as you can, yeah?”

Billy just looked at him for a moment, then suddenly pulled him into a crushing hug.

“Oh, that’s better,” Dom sighed, smiling, and pressed his cheek against Billy’s ear.

After an extra-fierce squeeze, Billy wordlessly let him go and turned to stride away, the muscles in his thighs bunching as he reached the rocks and began to clamber over them.

Dom watched him go. It was hard to tell, but he thought some of the grey had gone from Billy’s skin already. He let out a deep breath and climbed down to the beach, where he shook out one of the towels from the knapsack and sat down on it, undoing his trainers and pulling off his socks. Digging his toes down into the sun-warmed sand until he felt the cool damp silt beneath, Dom lay back on the thick towel and closed his eyes. He listened intently.

Waves. Wind. Gulls. A far-off helicopter. It was nearly twenty minutes later, just as he’d started to wonder if he should sit up and look, that he heard Billy shouting at the top of his lungs from the highest peak of the rough low cliffs further down the shore.

Dom smiled, relieved.

Billy’s shouts went on and on.

And on. Carried toward Dom on the wind, they sounded unnaturally loud in the wide-open sky.

Dom did sit up, then, and turned to seek him out, squinting against the sun even with sunglasses on. He should have stopped already, and Dom scanned the rocks quickly before spotting him at the very top of a cliff.

But even as he watched, Billy’s shouts suddenly cut off and he staggered. He sank to his knees, then his behind, and his head hung down.

Dom’s relief dimmed. He spread out the second towel beside him to begin warming in the sun.

Billy sat there for an age, hair and shirt being whipped by the strong sea breeze, and Dom didn’t take his eyes from his partner for even one second. Finally Billy’s head rose again, and he stared out across the Pacific for a while before finally, seemingly wearily, climbing to his feet.

Dom watched just long enough to see that Billy was slowly, carefully climbing back down the rocks, headed for the little strip of beach, before he laid back down on his towel, closed his eyes, and waited.

Finally—at last—he heard Billy approach. Heard him sit heavily, heard him flop back with a muted _whump_ onto the towel-covered sand.

Dom rolled over on his stomach, using the opportunity to sneak a glance at Billy, who lay with his arm over his eyes, his mouth twisted into a snarl. Dom settled himself down, reached over and took Billy’s other hand, and closed his eyes. They lay in silence for a long time, until Dom was just thinking perhaps he’d better push things along before they both got sunburned, when Billy suddenly clutched his hand tightly.

Dom looked over to find Billy’s head turned toward him, eyes open and meeting his for the first time in what Dom now realized was days. “Hi,” he said softly, barely audible over the wind and waves.

Billy heard it; felt it. “Hi,” he whispered roughly.

“Why don’t you go for a swim?”

“Can’t,” Billy muttered. “Don’t have trunks.”

“Yes, you do. In the knapsack.”

He sat up and frantically dug through the pack, pulling out his swim trunks. He glanced around once, quickly, almost not caring if anyone was around, but oddly enough the spot was still deserted. He rapidly pulled off his shorts, pulled on the trunks, and just before heading for the water, barked, “Come with.”

“I will,” Dom nodded. “Go ahead, I’ll be right in.”

Billy sprinted down to the water, ran in, and dove through a wave. He began swimming with swift, sure strokes.

Dom watched, keeping a weather eye on him to be sure he didn’t swim out too far, as he changed speedily into his own swim trunks. He followed in Billy’s footsteps, wading into the ocean and enjoying the cool slap of the water against his skin, and while still only waist-deep, measured how far Billy had gone. Further than Dom could easily go, and that was far enough, then.

“Billy!” he shouted, hand shading his eyes. “Oi! Bill!”

Billy stopped swimming to tread water, turning to look back at Dom, who waved him in. He nodded, and began to swim back in a zigzag pattern, making the distance as long as he could, tacking almost like a sailboat back and forth into the wind.

Dom dove under the water, no longer concerned with keeping Billy in sight. He shot off in a brief hard burst of motion himself, then slowly floated back to the surface and lazed around, bobbing on the salt water as he waited for the other man to finally reach him.

Billy swam past him, back to where his feet could touch the sandy, silty bottom, up to his pectorals still in the water.

Dom swam leisurely toward him, a wide grin on his face warning Billy that play was at hand.

Billy didn’t retreat.

Dom floated up next to him, swam around him, curling and curving and diving and twining like a dolphin teasing its mate, and when Dom finally surfaced for good, he rose up out of the water right next to Billy, laughing.

Billy was smiling at him. It was a bit of a weak smile, to be sure, a little on the stretched side, but it was a smile nonetheless.

Dom pushed his streaming hair back from his face and darted in to give Billy a swift, wetly smacking kiss on the cheek. He then bobbed around behind Billy, slid his hands in under his arms to wrap around his chest, and gently pulled him backwards off his feet.

Billy’s head came to rest on Dom’s shoulder as Dom towed him around like a light, slender barge. Billy watched his toes, watched the water and the waves wash over his legs as Dom alternately sped up and slowed down his little ride, spinning hard to starboard to try and swamp Billy, who simply took in a deep breath and floated a little higher in the water. When Dom began to breathe a little faster from the exertion, Billy unhooked the arms from around his chest and rolled over onto his stomach. He looked Dom directly in the eye for a moment, and then pulled him in.

Dom closed his eyes with relief and gratitude and love as Billy wrapped his arms around Dom’s neck, his legs around his waist, and held on like a limpet, the salt water buoying him up so Dom could hold his weight easily. Billy pressed a light kiss to Dom’s lips, then hugged him as tightly as he could, nose buried against the side of Dom’s wet neck.

Dom stood where he was, content to hold Billy for as long as his partner seemed to need it or want it—or until he went numb from the seawater, whichever came first.

“Bills?” he murmured, his voice just loud enough to be heard over the surf.

“Yeah?” came the muffled response.

“I’ve been thinking maybe it’s time we took a little holiday, don’t you? What say we go away somewhere?”

After a pause, Billy asked, “Where?”

“Dunno. Anywhere we want. Somewhere warm, or cold, lush or Spartan. Whatever we decide on together. Shall we holiday somewhere next month, Bills?”

“Can we go this month?”

“We could.”

Billy nodded his head against Dom’s. “I think that might be a good idea.”

“Okay.” Dom rubbed his hand up and down Billy’s back. “Start thinking where you want to go. We can look stuff up on the internet tonight.”

Billy unlocked his legs from around Dom’s waist, slowly settling to the sandy bottom. He took Dom by the hand, and they waded out of the Pacific. They lay down together on one towel to dry in the hot sun, arms and legs and bodies entwined in a way they hadn’t been for far too long.

“Missed this, lately, Bills,” Dom whispered into his ear as he watched a drop of water in Billy’s hair sparkle and refract in the sunlight. “Missed you.”

“Me too,” Billy replied, and it took Dom a moment to realize that could be interpreted in more than one way.

“I’m sorry I didn’t see it earlier.” He laid two fingers on Billy’s lips when he tried to object. “No, shush. I should have seen you heading down that road days ago, and you can’t tell me otherwise, and I’m sorry I didn’t. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help.”

“You were. You are,” Billy insisted, and pressed his face into Dom’s neck. “Love you.”

“Love you, too, Bills. Always.”

“Always,” Billy repeated, and exhausted, fell asleep on the warm sand within minutes, his head pillowed on Dom’s shoulder.


End file.
